


Ephemeral

by Mareel



Series: Always [42]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Autumn, Canada, Destroy Ending, Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, Post-Canon, Post-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>To every thing there is a season...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ephemeral

**Author's Note:**

> Eleven months post-war, this takes place at the Alenko family orchard in British Columbia not long after receiving confirmation that his MIA father wouldn't be coming back. It is Kaidan's voice. 
> 
> The summary is from "Turn, Turn, Turn" - Pete Seeger

 

I've always loved the orchard in the autumn. 

The crispness of the air, chilly enough to just barely be able to see your breath as you exhale, the overnight touch of a frost on the leaves. The trees can turn from full-leafed and green, dotted with ripe fruit, to blazes of color that mute the contrast between leaf and apple. 

As the leaves drift down, they crunch underfoot, already becoming mulch for the overwintering trees. Some years, the colors don't linger. A hard freeze or windstorm can strip the trees bare overnight. This year, the autumn is kind. The golds and reds linger. But they could be gone tomorrow. 

I walk the orchard, one hand holding John's, and the other curled around the extra dogtags around my neck. I try to see the orchard, and the autumn, through my father's eyes. 

The last time I walked through these trees with him was not long before I enlisted in the Marines. We didn't talk much that day. Well, at least I didn't say much. Dad shared a lot of thoughts. I'm reminded of one.

_'Things change, Kaidan. It's part of life, like the dried leaves under foot. Just ride it out, son. Tomorrow will be what it is.'_

I must have said this aloud. Shepard stops walking and turns toward me, head cocked in an unspoken question. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I let him hold me, my head pressed against his chest. 

He's patient. The spike of grief fades.

"Just a message from Dad."

________________________________________________

 


End file.
